


When A Paladin And Synth Meet

by JadeLoverXD



Series: Random stories of fandoms [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: No one hath done this?, Random & Short, To know is why, What i really wanted, writers block
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-08 03:54:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21229364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadeLoverXD/pseuds/JadeLoverXD
Summary: Danse is Danse,M7-97 is a synth,When the two meet,Nothing will be right...In other words, two bois fight and only one remains...





	When A Paladin And Synth Meet

Danse didn't know what was real. At least not up until now. He and his squad, Recon Gladius had been sent to the Commonwealth in search of the missing patrol Recon Artemis. But not everything went their way. Four of his knights didn't survive, leaving him, Haylen and Rhys the only ones left.

It was a risk going out by himself to clear out some of the ghouls in the courtyard, an even greater risk when he found the entire cause staring back at him.

The synth wipes the blood off his face—Danse's face—some of it smearing and leaving a streak as he—it—grips the sledgehammer. They don't say anything for a while, seizing each other up even though Danse had his armor on.

The synth however, was the exact copycat of him. If Cutler were here, he'd damn well be standing to the side watching Danse's reaction while keeping his awe and disgust at bay. The same scar over his right eye was on the synth's face, the same sun-burned face, the nose that's been broken various of times even the same brown eyes that watched him watch it. Danse was pretty sure it sounded just like him, everything there is about him, the Institute would re-create into a synthetic being. Thinking that they're as real as ever.

"What do you want, _synth_?" His lip curls, disgust filling in as he speaks. _No talking, just kill the abomination that was made to look like you._

The synth doesn't say anything at first, instead choosing to look at it's hand while flexing it, "Pretty sure you know the answer to that." It lifts his head, smiling slightly at the shock that Danse must've given away from behind his armor, "How about you make this easier for the both of us and come with me willingly."

Willingly? "Designation:_M7-97_. Type: Infiltration Courser. To replace those of—"

"You are not going to replace me you wretched price of metal," Danse hisses, and raised his weapon, but not in time, by then, the synth had moved too quickly for him to see and lobbed the sledgehammer towards him with surprising strength, sending him to the ground once it connected with his dented chestplate.

"I see we are not in an agreement," The synth appears in his line of sight and looks down at him with an observing look, "It would be easier if you did this willingly." He repeats, this time with more force as the look changes from observation, to a cold and calculative look.

Danse grabs the leg of the synth, pulling him down to the ground forcefully as he stands, and tossed him into the nearest wall like a rag doll, "Over my cold. _dead. body."_

When he rushes to get his weapon off the ground and faces where the synth should be, it's gone, and he registers his mistake all too quickly. 

"That's the entire point..."

* * *

M7-97 returned to the Institute to have the memories swapped over to his brain. They told him that once he left the Institute, he wouldn't remember his true identity, or what he did to get those memories. He'd live as if it had never happened, as another person.

But what they didn't tell him was the immense amount of guilt he felt for stealing someone else's ability to live. He remembered the absolute defeat he saw in the eyes mirror to his. He remembered how he almost said that he could feel that indescribable feeling that same day. He kept it all to himself when it was time for him to leave, as he watched as the real Danse was incinerated to ashes, as he put on his clothes, took his weapons and armor. Took the very being of him. _Coursers don't feel, _they'd said,_ They are programmed to obey orders and_ kill...

It stopped when he was teleported back in front of the subway entrance.

Something in his mind clicked, and the memory of stark white walls vanished.

The memory of him becoming a courser, gone.

The memory of killing the real Danse, _gone_.

He was Danse now, and will always be. He stood there for a moment, the headache vanishing as soon as it came and looked around...

And made his way back to the police station.

**Author's Note:**

> ...I live with no regrets... NONE!!!
> 
> Also in other related news...   
CAN SOMEONE GIVE ARLEN GLASS A HUG?!


End file.
